Jak and Daxter: The Darkness Within
by x-jam-x
Summary: *Sequel to 'A Twist of Fate.'* But two years can change a person. It gives a person time to think and linger on all of those 'what ifs,' and stew on the fact that, no matter how much you might want to, you can never go back. Slash. Updates the 15th and 30th.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello again! It's good to be back! And I'm so excited to be starting a _sequel _(you all know how ecstatic I was just to finish something for the first time in my life...). Though this is a sequel, the world won't end if you haven't read A Twist of Fate. This story will diverge more from canon than the last, starting later on. I hope you all enjoy reading this fic as much as I do writing it.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Jak and Daxter, or any of the other colorful characters and places and...thingamabobbits created by Naughty Dog. I'm not making any money off of this. If any dialogue seem eerily familiar, it's because it's taken from the game.

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**Jak and Daxter: The Darkness Within  
**by Jam

It was amazing how quickly one's life could change. One innocent trip to a forbidden island on the edge of the horizon had changed two young boys' lives forever. Jak sometimes wondered what would have happened if Daxter hadn't agreed to go with him that fateful night. Would the older teen have gone alone, or would he have stayed behind with his friend? If Jak had stayed, he would have never fallen into that vat of Dark Eco. He wouldn't see this pale, washed-out version of himself every time he saw his reflection, wouldn't have to deal with claws and horns and a rage that constantly simmered under the surface. But, if he had stayed, would he and Daxter have even made it to Gol and Maia's citadel? Would Jak have been able to fight, and possibly kill, all of those Lurkers on his own without the thirst for blood fueling him? What would the world be like now if Gol and Maia had succeeded? Would there even be a world at all?

Such a simple decision to break a rule might have ended up saving the world.

It made Jak think about the significance of other decisions he'd made in life.

What if Jak had gone to see the Oracle like was supposed to?

What if they had never found the Rift Gate?

What if, what if…

How much of an impact did other seemingly meaningless choices have on the greater scheme of things? 'What ifs' would haunt Jak for a long time. If he had done this, would this have happened; if he hadn't done that, would things be better; and what if he hadn't done anything at all? Jak wasn't usually the kind of guy to worry so much about the consequences of his actions. He lived in the moment and did what felt right, and everything had always worked out just fine. At the young age of fifteen, Jak hadn't had any regrets. Why waste time worrying over things he couldn't change when his and Daxter's actions had saved everyone? But two years can change a person. It gives a person time to think and linger on all of those 'what ifs,' and stew on the fact that, no matter how much you might want to, you can never go back.

-x-

"Today's the big day, Jak!"

The pale fifteen year old boy smiled as his mentor strode towards him, staff in hand. Even though the sun had only just barely risen over the horizon, it might as well have been midday at Samos' hut. After a long two weeks of lugging Precursor parts and letting Keira work her magic, the strange machine they had found at Gol and Maia's citadel had finally been moved and reconstructed back at Sandover. The finished product looked something like an oversized warp gate. The gate itself was made up of giant, intricately carved interlocking Precursor rings which they had propped up and attached to Samos' little island by building scaffolding underneath it. The energy swirling in the center of the rings glowed with a brilliance that could only be outmatched by Light Eco. Keira was finally satisfied that she had gotten the machine back to working order and all of them were excited to see what exactly the machine did. Well…at least he and Keira were. Seeing as it was a giant Precursor artifact, Daxter could honestly only get so excited. Jak had practically had to carry him out of their hut to get him to show up at all, and he had promptly fallen asleep where he had been dumped in the seat of the cart that was connected to the machine via a rickety wooden ramp and homemade tracks.

Samos, on the other hand, was hard to read. One minute he would seem excited but, when he thought no one was looking, he would gaze at the Precursor machine with a hard, pensive expression. That look was leaking into his expression now, though Jak could tell the old sage was trying to hide it.

"I hope you are prepared for whatever happens..."

"I think I've figured out most of this machine," Keira grinned before Jak could dwell too much on the sage's words as she affectionately ran a hand over the side of the cart. She was definitely the most excited about today's test run. Though the strange machine wasn't an invention of her own, she had put just as much blood, sweat, and tears into it as her Zoomer or one of her scout flies. As she slid into the seat next to Daxter, she gazed at the machinery around her not unlike a mother or father might look at their child. "It interacts somehow with that large Precursor ring. I just hope we didn't break anything moving it here from the lab."

"Easy for _you_ to say!" Daxter groused sleepily as he was accidentally jostled awake when Jak climbed into the seat next to him. He threw his arms behind him and stretched in the seat, not caring if Jak and Keira had to duck to miss being hit. He didn't see why he had to get up at the crack of dawn to test out this Precursor monstrosity when they could have just waited a few more hours and let him sleep in. "_We_ did all the heavy lifting!" he finished, jerking his head in Jak's direction.

It was only slightly true. Moving the smaller parts had been pretty easy. All Jak and Daxter had had to do was carry them down the elevator in the Gol and Maia's citadel and chuck them through the warp gate by the Yellow Sage's hut. To move the larger pieces, Keira had come up with the brilliant plan of recycling the Lurkers' dirigible. They had figured that if it could pry Precursor robot parts from the thick, cloying mud of the swamp, then it could be used to move parts from the citadel back to Sandover with no problem. Jak's uncle had been more help in that department. The thought of climbing a 50 ft sheer rock wall exhilarated Jak, the rush he got from being launched by a Blue Eco pad thrilled him, but there was something about the thought of hovering in midair, hundreds and hundreds of feet above the surface, that just rubbed him the wrong way. For his uncle, though, it was just another adventure to add to his list. Jak and Daxter would live vicariously through the old explorer's stories of the glory of flight so long as they never had to try it out for themselves.

Despite how much Daxter really wished he could just go back to bed, however, there was still a very, very small, almost insignificant part of him that was curious about this machine. Even if he didn't particularly like the Precursors or anything they had built (they made all their crap such a horrible shade of orange, and who needed Dark Eco or giant robots anyway?), he still wondered about them. How could he not occasionally wonder about the race that had apparently created the entire _world_?

"Daxter! Don't touch anything!" the Green Eco Sage snapped before Daxter's wandering hands could touch any of the controls in front of him. The orange-haired boy winced and glared out of the corner of his eye to see Samos practically looming over him. Nope. He did not need _this_ first thing in the morning. "Though the Precursors vanished long ago, the artifacts they left behind can still do great harm!"

Daxter shared an exaggerated eye roll with Jak before shaking his head and shimmying further down into the seat. As if he had to tell _them_ that. It's not like they hadn't gone on a trip practically across the world to stop Gol and Maia from using a giant Precursor artifact to open another giant Precursor artifact full of ancient Precursor sludge. He tried to look slightly less homicidal when his horned friend nudged him with an elbow and smiled knowingly down at him, but it was hard. Daxter first thing in the morning had a shorter fuse than Jak, and that was saying something these days.

At least now that this…_thing_ had been built, Jak could _finally_ get his sorry ass down the beach and go talk to the Oracle. Daxter wasn't going to let his friend come up with any more excuses. First there was the whole 'we need to stop the end of the world first' excuse which, Daxter had to admit, was pretty good. If they had stopped to train Jak's Eco powers, the world would probably be kind of dead by now. The 'we should collect all the Power Cells' excuse was pushing it, but had there really been any harm in procrastinating just a little bit more when it was just the two of them running around and Jak didn't have to worry about accidentally skewering somebody he actually liked? And there had still been plenty of pissed off Lurkers to deal with.

But Jak had been different when he came back to the village. It wasn't that he wasn't the same cheerful, thrill-seeking, hard-headed teenager he always had been, but he wasn't as friendly with the other villagers as he used to be. It hadn't taken the villagers long to realize that talking badly about Daxter anywhere within earshot of Jak was very, very unwise, and Daxter hadn't suddenly forgotten that none of those people had been particularly fond of him to begin with. Though Daxter sort of liked the fact that people had stopped picking on him, it was only a matter of time before somebody slipped and it would be really bad if Jak accidentally butchered somebody. The orange-haired teen had a sneaking suspicion that Jak had been avoiding the Oracle because he didn't want to have to confront the darker side of himself, wanted to shove it away in a box and pretend it didn't exist. Daxter could understand that, but pretending it wasn't there wouldn't make it go away.

"…or great good," Keira was saying, trying to lighten the mood and again reminding Daxter of the Precursor Oracle watching them stoically from just down the beach, "if you know how to use them!"

"I've had some experience with such things. I know you can make it work," Samos said to Jak as he, too, slipped into the cart. It was a tight fit with the four of them all crammed into one tight space, but no one was willing to sit on the side and miss out on...whatever was about to happen. Which was another thing Daxter was kind of sore about. There had to be a safer way to test this thing than piling into it and crossing their fingers that they wouldn't blow up. The young teen had been paranoid from the second he'd seen it – he just _knew_ something bad was going to happen – but Jak and Keira were forces to be reckoned with. Daxter had never been able to prevent Jak from going on any of his hare-brained adventures before, and there was no way he could have prevented Keira from diving headfirst into this machine. He just had to cross his fingers and hope that Samos' presence would counteract his and Jak's questionable luck.

Though Keira had recreated the machine and claimed that it was completely functional, she hadn't actually been able to get it to _do_ anything. Yea, the gate thing was glowing like crazy and the funny screens on the cart were spouting gibberish in the Precursor language, but that's about all it seemed to do. The lights were on but nobody was home. The green-haired mechanic was putting all her hopes in Jak, who seemed to have a natural affinity for Precursor crap. With only the slightest bit of hesitation, Jak reached out and placed his hand on the badge-shaped red gem on the console in front of them. Instantly it began to glow with a soft warmth and they all heard a surprisingly loud click as the switch activated. The cart around them began to hum with life, and many of the screens that had been dark before suddenly snapped on and began to display messages that neither Jak nor Daxter could ever hope to understand. The piece that Daxter had been about to touch earlier, a gizmo that looked a lot like a Precursor Orb if slightly bigger and rounder rather than egg-shaped, suddenly popped open by itself and revealed a fiery, golden core.

"Looks like Jak's still got the mojo," the youngest teen commented smugly, in part to cover his sudden nerves. They were really, actually doing this. How _did_ he let Jak talk him into these kinds of things?

"Interesting…" Keira whispered as she leaned closer to the small, fiery light and glanced with awe at the various screens across the dashboard. "It appears to be reading out some preset coordinates!"

'Preset coordinates to _where_?' Daxter wanted to ask but, before he could say anything, everything started to go south. The Precursor Orb-shaped gizmo suddenly snapped shut with an ominous click and the smaller ring of Precursor metal attached to the back of the cart behind them started to move. It rotated slowly behind them, beams of Blue Eco from its protruding antennae lancing out like bolts of lightning to latch onto the larger rings ahead of them and disappear. With each beam, the giant rings began to move themselves until they lurched from their wooden stand so violently that it tore it apart completely and began to hover in midair. At first Daxter could admit that he'd been a little scared (completely terrified), but as seconds passed and they weren't being blown to smithereens, he could appreciate what was going on in front of him. It seemed that the machine really was just one giant warp gate. The gate itself, which had been glowing with brilliant white light before, now swirled with the chaotic blues and purples of any other warp gate.

"Wow…wouldja look at that?" Daxter gasped in awe. If any of the teens had been paying attention to their mentor, they may have noticed the way his skin had suddenly paled with realization or how his eyes had filled with dread. If Samos was right, and Samos was almost always right, then this was the day he had been waiting for all these years. This was the day everything would change.

The sky suddenly turned dark as if someone had snuffed out the sun, and the only light came from the swirling gate before them. The wind inexplicably picked up, whistling harshly around them, and faces full of wonder quickly morphed into faces of concern and worry. From the depths of the gate, a deep and foreboding voice the likes of which none of them had ever heard bellowed triumphantly. "Finally! The last Rift Gate has been opened!"

Nope, nope, nope – this was bad. This was very bad. Daxter knew he should have just stayed in bed. It wouldn't have helped, but at least he could have died peacefully in his sleep. The terrified boy yelped and unconsciously leaned into Jak as swarms and swarms of…_something_ began to pour out of the gate. They almost looked like wumpbees, if wumpbees were the size of Yakows and let out ear-splitting screeches that made Daxter feel as if his spine was trying to slither out of his back. Next to him, Jak watched them with narrowed eyes, his aura of Dark Eco crackling sporadically. At any other time, Jak's mere presence might have been enough to keep Daxter calm, but the scene playing out before him was like something out of a nightmare. The younger boy yelled as one of the giant beasts flew dangerously close overhead and ducked as far down into the seat as he could. "What are those things?!"

The old Green Eco Sage looked around with a surreal sort of calm, watching as the creatures began to fly over the village. "So this is how it happened," he muttered to himself. When he turned back to the gate, a hideous face he had honestly hoped to never see again had appeared in the cycling vortex. A face not from this world, attached to a creature antithesis to everything the Precursors stood for. The massive creature lurking in the gate roared with bloodlust and triumph, its claws reaching through the portal and entering into their world. Eleven years couldn't have prepared Samos for this, even if he knew that this would happen.

"You cannot hide from me, boy!" the monster crowed, crawling even further into their dimension. Keira was the first to recover and turned to the only one of them who could control the machine.

"Do something, Jak!"

Daxter snapped next, his panic getting the best of them as the monster in front of them let out a cackle so full of malice and sadism that it filled him with more fear than any of Maia's crazed chuckles ever could. He began pressing every gizmo and pulling every lever in sight, hoping that something, anything, he did would make the monster go away. "What's this thing do?! Or…or that? How 'bout this one? Everybody, press all the buttons!"

Jak slammed his and down on the red gem-like button he had pressed before, hoping it would shut off the machine, and hissed as the cart suddenly flew into the motion. It soared down the ramshackle track and headed straight for the grinning maw of the beast in front of them. Daxter was positive they were going to die. He had been absolutely right, not that it mattered much now. Nothing ever good came from messing with Precursor junk! The teen shut his eyes as they got closer and closer to the gate and waited for the end but…nothing happened.

Well, something had happened. They had apparently gone right past the monster, had entered the rift gate, and were now flying towards who knew where. It wasn't like any warp gate Daxter had been through before. Whenever he used the gate at Samos', there wasn't any time between when he jumped into the gate and when he was spat back out. He didn't have time to look around and see what the inside of a gate looked like. It was dizzying and vibrant and nauseating and beautiful all at the same time, and Daxter wasn't sure if he wanted to shut his eyes to block it out or keep looking to make sure he didn't miss anything.

"What was that thing?" Keira yelled into the rushing wind of the inside of the gate, but even if someone knew the answer, they were being rocked and buffeted around too much to answer properly. It wasn't exactly a smooth ride.

"Hang on everyone!" Samos warned as they barreled faster and faster toward the light at the end of the sickeningly spiraling tunnel.

Daxter finally made up his mind and decided that he really, really hated warp gates. He was never going to go through another one again – EVER. He didn't care how big or small it was, he was just going to have to walk! Provided they made it out of here alive. As the cart really began to rattle and shake, feeling almost as if it wanted to fling itself apart, Daxter couldn't hold back a terrified scream. "I want off this thiiiiing!"

And just as they were reaching the end of the tunnel, just when Daxter thought this crazy ride from hell might be over, the worst happened. A jolt of energy lanced through the rattled machine and literally shook it apart. It practically disintegrated beneath them, the explosion sending all four of them tumbling in different directions. Daxter couldn't tell which way was up and which was down, let alone where Jak or anyone else had flown off to. He threw his arms over his eyes as he rocketed closer and closer toward the blinding white before him and just prayed that everyone would make it to the other side in one piece.

Jak was just as lost, tumbling helplessly toward the other end of the gate and hating every second of it. He couldn't see the others anywhere and that worried him, but he couldn't do anything about it now. As he braced himself for whatever was coming, he thought he could hear Samos call to him in the distance.

"_Find yourself, Jak…!"_

That was the last time Jak would hear a friendly voice for a long time.

Now, the pale teen wasn't exactly sure where he expected to land, but he had expected to feel soft earth or hard rock beneath him. Maybe grass. Something familiar, at least. And perhaps the surface he landed on was somewhat familiar. He landed hard on some sort of metallic surface and winced as he skidded against the abrasive floor beneath him. With a pained groan, the young elf pushed himself to his knees and glancing warily around him to try to get his bearings. What he saw…well, he wasn't quite sure how he felt about what he saw.

Jak had never seen anything like it. Gol and Maia's citadel had been made out of nothing but Precursor and elf-made metal, but it had just been one building and most of it had been built by the Precursors. It hadn't been so different from the lost temple in the jungle, if much larger and far more sinister. But this? This was a sprawling landscape made from nothing but elf-made metal. Square-shaped buildings as tall as three or four of Samos' huts stacked on top of each other surrounded him like towering walls, blocking out the horizon and making him feel as if he were somehow indoors even with the sky right above him. And the sky itself had a strange filmy quality to it, almost like the sky over Misty Island and yet different, hazier. Jak glanced around in wonder as he pushed himself to his feet. Giant screens like the ones that had been on the machine flickered on every building with words Jak didn't understand. Dozens of Zoomers of every color and shape conceivable flew through the air above him. And towering above everything was a building that he thought might have dwarfed even Gol and Maia's citadel. He couldn't get a good look at it with the sun shining right behind it, but the spires silhouetted against the sunlight reminded Jak of claws.

He appeared to be on some kind of metal bridge, and there were dozens, _hundreds_ of people gaping up at him in shock. He had never _seen_ so many people, and certainly not all in one place! Jak's purple lightning crackled curiously around him against his will, and the people nearest to him screamed and ran away in terror. He might have been more upset about it if he hadn't still been in such a state of shock himself, or if his instincts hadn't honed in on the group of elves approaching him from the other side of the bridge. Unlike the other elves, who were now running and screaming in earnest, these elves were approaching him at a steady, confident march.

"There he is. Move in!" one of the elves barked in an oddly muffled voice. They wore some kind of armor that Jak had never seen before, made out of a material that didn't appear to be metal, wood, or bone. Most of them wore red suits from head to toe, with masks covering their faces and red-tinted goggles over their eyes, but not the elf in front. He didn't march so much as swagger towards Jak, and a yellow bodysuit peaked out from underneath his red armor. His face mask was pushed back to reveal a smirking face covered in strange, blue tattoos that vaguely reminded Jak of Maia, and he wondered if there was any connection between the two. The pale teen let out a warning growl as the group marched closer, instinctively hunching into a defensive position and spreading his claws. He had never fought elves before, but there was something about this group that didn't feel right. He didn't know what the strange items they held in their hands were, but he heavily suspected they were weapons they wouldn't hesitate to use.

Jak glanced around him quickly to see if he could spot Daxter or any of the others, but he seemed to be alone. He could only hope that they would be okay, wherever they had ended up.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" the yellow-clad elf in front purred as he finally came to a stop. The other elves continued forward more hesitantly and fanned out on either side of their leader, weapons raised. Something about that voice rubbed Jak the wrong way. He bared his fangs and let his aura run wild, let it whip and snap around him like angry tentacles of lightning. Though the bloodlust was already singing through him, he didn't want to fight these elves – not really. Fighting Lurkers was one thing. He didn't particularly like doing _that_ either, but most Lurker species weren't sentient and the ones that were had been hell bent on destroying the world. These elves, though? They could just be protecting their village from the strange demonic creature that had fallen from the sky. Jak knew they probably had families and friends waiting for them after they took off those clunky-looking suits. Could he hold back enough to just knock them out?

"Don't damage it too much," their leader ordered, and Jak bristled at being referred to as 'it'. "The Baron will want it alive."

The group of red-clad elves surged forward at once and Jak prepared to do whatever he needed to get them to back down, but he never got the chance to do much of anything at all. Almost as one, the elves aimed their weapons at him and something that almost looked like Blue Eco crackled out of them. But it couldn't be Blue Eco, because he just would have absorbed it. Jak didn't know what it was and he didn't care because all he knew was mind-numbing agony – a pain so sudden and all-encompassing that he couldn't even scream. It felt as if every single cell of his body had been set on fire and it just kept burning. When the elves finally relented, the pale ten collapsed to his hands and knees and tried to stop the world from spinning, stop his limbs from quivering, but he couldn't. And when he finally managed to glance back up, that tattooed elf was smirking down at him with a dark leer that would have put Gol and Maia to shame.

"We've been waiting for you…"

And everything went black.

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I'm going to try to update on the 15th and 30th of every month, but I will update sooner than that if I end up having more free time this semester. Please, please, let me know what you think. Your opinions mean a lot to me. :)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 2 of TDW. Thank you so much for the reviews! They are inspiring and your opinions mean a great deal to me. I hope you all enjoy the second chapter. I actually had to write it twice. X) The first version was much, much darker, but I accidentally left it 150 miles away. I like how the second version turned out, though.

None of Daxter's point of view in this chapter. You'll get that...eventually. At some point...Maybe sooner than I planned, because writing Dark Jak's train of thought for prolonged periods of time can be a little intense.

DISCLAIMER: Is in the first chapter. If Jak and Daxter were mine...well...I wouldn't be writing this fanfiction because this would have happened in the game.

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**Jak and Daxter: The Darkness Within  
**by Jam

_Two Years Later…_

Jak had thought that Dark Eco couldn't hurt him anymore. How could it when it was engrained into every cell in his body?

He had been wrong.

He wasn't sure why – didn't particularly care why anymore. The Dark Eco here was…different than his own, he knew that much. Tainted, if such a thing were possible. Worse, somehow. It felt _wrong_.

And it _burned_. Endlessly. Every day.

Burned so much that bone-deep lacerations and broken limbs meant nothing anymore. So much that his mind had just given up on recognizing pain, even if his body still reacted to it. Still arched and writhed and screamed pointlessly as they pumped more of that tainted acid into his veins. Jak didn't even know why he was here anymore. He had forgotten a long time ago, years ago. Had it even been years? It was so hard to tell when there was no reliable way to tell the passage time. Maybe even the Baron had forgotten, too, because there didn't seem to be any point to the torture these days. Before there had been questions, demands, interrogations, threats; but now there was just _this_.

"_Dark Eco injections complete. Bio readings highly unstable and erratic. Dark Eco concentration remains unchanged. Proceed with caution…_"

His tortured body flopped lifelessly to the cold metal surface beneath it when the Dark Eco stopped flowing and his mind lazily snatched onto the conversation happening above him. Just because the lights weren't on didn't mean he wasn't still there. Wasn't waiting for his chance…

"Heuh. Nothing," a deep, gravelly voice huffed somewhere to his left. Baron Praxis. He never bothered to come by very often these days and didn't linger long when he did, but Jak knew the gruff man was the reason he suffered. He lurked behind the scenes, ordered every new experiment and probably devised every new method of torture. Jak wondered how long the Baron would have survived if it had been _him_ strapped to this machine. "You would think that _this _one might be different!"

"He is surprisingly resistant to your…'experiments,' Baron Praxis." And _him_. Jak would never forget _that_ voice – not for as long as he lived. _Erol_. "I fear the Dark Warrior program has failed."

"Aaargh!" the Baron roared in frustration, and the fire of Jak's hair practically being yanked out of his head by the enraged elf barely even registered. It was a tickle compared to everything else he had been through this night alone. It just sickened him that the monster was so close and he couldn't even lift a claw to swipe at him. "You should at least be dead with all the Dark Eco I've wasted on you!"

"What now? Metal Head armies are pressing their attacks. Without a new weapon, my men cannot hold them off forever!" Was that real fear in Erol's voice? Erol used to be afraid of Jak, for a while. They hadn't been able to control Jak at first, hadn't known which buttons to press. At first…

"I will not be remembered as the elf who lost this city to those vile creatures!" Praxis bellowed somewhere above the pale teen. "Move forward with the final plan! As for this…_thing_…If he won't tell us his secrets, we'll rip them, from his cold, lifeless corpse!"

"As you wish…" Erol replied easily, a dark smile in his voice. But on the cold table, Jak's mind had come to a sudden halt. He almost didn't notice when Erol came up to lean into his space…well, no. That was a lie. Jak always knew where Erol was. _Always_. He was just too preoccupied to bother half-heartedly growling at the bastard when it would be a waste of time anyway. "I'll be back later…"

So this was it. All of Jak's pain and suffering would finally end tonight. No more sharp, merciless needles digging under his skin; no more of the cold, invasive touch of scientists or the brutality of Guards; no more experiments; no more nights trapped alone in the insanity of his bloodthirsty mind. No more of Erol's smug, disgusting leer peering at him from the darkest corner of the room while Jak screamed and writhed and gnashed his teeth in agony. Jak would die tonight, and he would finally slip into the numb oblivion of the afterlife. The thought should have filled the tormented seventeen year old with a sense of relief, or maybe even anticipation.

It only filled him with rage.

Everything angered him these days, not that there was much to be particularly happy about in a place like this. Jak clung to his rage and held it tight, draped it over himself like a blanket so that he could better hide from the reality that had become his life. Pain wasn't quite as sharp, quite as soul-wrenching, when his mind was overwhelmed with the fire of hatred. He could ignore the now familiar tang of blood in his mouth if he could pretend it belonged to someone else. Erol's. The Baron's. The Guard's who liked to kick him and beat him every time he took him back to his cell.

Always theirs. Not his.

Because it was only his murderous thoughts that kept him going anymore. Only the thought of how satisfying it would be to sink his claws into Erol's arrogant mug and _tear_ that got him through the night. How sweet it would be to see fear shining in the Baron's remaining eye before Jak ripped it out of its socket. What other point to living remained? It's not like anyone waited for him outside these walls. Sometimes he started to forget there was an 'outside' at all.

Only his cell, his captors, and his hatred existed.

Jak supposed sometimes, when he was just too tired to maintain his rage, that maybe Keira and Samos were still out there somewhere. Maybe they were even looking for him, but he knew they would never find him. Even if they managed to get here and break open his cell, all they would ever find was the bloodthirsty, broken husk of a boy. If Keira and Samos hadn't feared Jak before, they would now. Sometimes…a lot of the time, Jak scared himself. It would be better if they just thought he had died.

Sometimes, late at night, Jak would console himself with the thought that Daxter was out there. Daxter had to be looking for him because he was _Daxter_ and they were a team and his young friend would never, ever abandon him. It was only a matter of time before Daxter managed to find a way to break Jak out of this hell hole. All he had to do was wait and be patient and hold on just a little bit longer. But then he would suddenly remember with a pain so violent it surpassed any of the Baron's most depraved experiments…Daxter would never save him.

Because Daxter was dead, and Erol had killed him.

That was why Jak would never give up despite how much he just wanted all of this to end. He had to live, he had to escape, so that he could rip Erol and Praxis to shreds. He would do it nice and slow. So slow. And he would make them scream and beg for mercy that he would never grant them because they had killed Daxter, and they had made him suffer before he died. Tonight was Jak's last chance. His last chance to get revenge for both Daxter and himself, and he wouldn't let this chance slip through his claws, no. He had to break out…_he had to_. Jak would spill warm blood tonight, and he slipped into oblivion with that cold thought comforting him.

Sometime later, Jak was pried from his murderous dreams by an unfamiliar voice cutting through the silence. He was used to wails of agony and moans of despair from his fellow prisoners, to the sarcastic taunts of Guards echoing through the halls, but this voice was downright cheerful.

"Ding, ding! Third floor! Body chains, roach food, torture devices!"

His first thought was that Erol had finally returned, but even the most sadistic experiments couldn't put that much pep in the soldier's voice. And the more he listened to it, the more it seemed to tug at something in Jak. Like maybe he had heard it somewhere before…

"Hey, buddy, you seen any heroes around here?" the slightly nasally voice asked as it drew closer, but Jak was too focused on trying to place where he knew that voice from to focus on the actual words being spoken. He bristled when he felt a warm…something land on his chest – a hand, maybe? – but as long as he was shackled to this table he couldn't do a thing about it. "_Whoa_! What'd they do to _you_?" the voice asked incredulously as another hand joined the first.

"_Jak_, it's _me_! Daxter!"

_Daxter_.

Daxter was _dead_.

How dare…whoever this was torment him like this? He tried to arch off of the table, break free, just pry his eyes open so he could see who it was he was going to sink his claws into, but Jak was weaker than he had thought. He slumped back down onto the table and tried to catch his breath, to gather his strength…

"Well, that's a fine hello!" the imposter snapped irritably, sounding so much like his old friend that it ached. "I've been crawling around in this place, risking my tail, to save _you_!"

He would rip them to shreds. He would make them cry out in agony. He would tear at their flesh and throw their body into the bottomless pit that surrounded this Precursors-forsaken machine. How dare they taunt him like this?

"I've been lookin' for you for two years!"

Was this Erol's idea? Or was it the Baron's? It didn't matter; Jak would kill them both for this. He was going to break free and he was going to bathe in their blood and - .

The hands on his chest buried itself in his prisoner's uniform as the voice above him grew more desperate. "_Say something_! Just this _once_!"

"_I'M GONNA KILL PRAXIS!_" Jak roared with a ferocity that surprised even him. But it was true. He was going to hunt Praxis down and then Erol, too, as soon as he dealt with the poor fool they had sent in here to torment him. They had made a mistake by mocking him with Daxter's death, and they would pay dearly. Rage the likes of which he didn't know possible flooded through his system and crackled along his skin as vicious tentacles of Dark Eco. He was oblivious to the world around him. The voice was still speaking, but it only served to anger him more. Jak let himself drown in the rage, let it fill every single cell until he just couldn't handle it anymore. With an inhuman roar, he released the built up Dark Eco within him and grinned maniacally when he heard his shackles buckle under the assault and fall to the floor.

He was free…

"Or, uh…_you_ could do it…" the voice muttered cautiously, with just the slightest hint of fear.

Grin still firmly in place, the demonic teen shakily pushed himself off of the metal table beneath him and stumbled onto unsteady legs. His Eco aura whipped and crackled around him like an angry storm, latching onto anything within reach and singeing it if it could. His claws itched to sink into flesh, his teeth ached to tear, and there stood his victim not five feet away. Jak staggered closer, grin widening when he realized that his prey had nowhere to run. Blood red rage blinded his vision, made everything hazy, but he could see the way the sorry elf backed away in fear, held its hands in front of it as if that would really stop Jak.

"Jak? E-Easy, now. Easy, buddy. It's…it's your old pal, Daxter, remember?"

With a bellow of fury, Jak launched himself at the imposter and dragged them both to the harsh, metal floor. The elf didn't even put up a fight! The enraged, Eco-infused elf pinned his victim to the floor with one hand and poised the other over the other elf's face, ready to rend and tear and break. But something stopped him. Something made him hesitate. Because now that he was closer to his victim, he could see him more clearly than before. And the sight below him was eerily familiar.

_… he would never forget Daxter's fear-stricken face. Daxter had been looking at _him_. He had looked at Jak with pure terror in his eyes, written in every line of his body…_

Jak narrowed his eyes and looked closer at the elf trembling beneath him. He knew this face…He knew those eyes, wide and bluer than the sea by Sandover. Hair like a fiery plume of yellow and red, shorter than Jak remembered but still held in check by the same familiar pair of goggles that Keira had made so many years ago. Front teeth larger than average poking out from under his top lip. Less baby fat than had been there before, more smooth lines and angles, but Jak knew this face. The memory of this face had haunted him every single night.

"_Daxter_…?"

No, it wasn't possible; Daxter was _dead_. Yet the elf underneath him was very much alive, and his face wasn't the only thing that had changed. The elf was taller than he remembered – might even be taller than Jak now. Wiry muscles existed where there had been nothing but skin and bone before. His familiar red tunic had been replaced by a sleeveless shirt of the same color that covered most of his neck. White pants had been swapped for a pair of black ones littered with dozens of little pockets. Boots similar to those worn by the Guards, but without the extra plating, had replaced his old sandals. He wasn't the same kid who had sat next to Jak in the Precursor's machine that fateful day, but Jak had changed as well. This was an older version of Daxter, but this was still _Daxter_ and that wasn't _possible_.

Jak lurched away from the elf as if he had been burned, mind racing and heart caught in his throat. He watched warily, black eyes wide as saucers, as the young elf pushed himself off of the ground and brushed himself off. Any trace of fear in that eerily familiar face disappeared as the other teen, _Daxter_, shot him a dirty scowl. "What the heck was that?! Some kind of thanks I get!"

Was Jak dreaming? No, he couldn't be. He couldn't remember the last time he had had a pleasant dream, something that hadn't filled him with so much terror or hatred (or both) that he had woken screaming and howling. Maybe Jak's mind had finally, blissfully snapped and this was just a very vivid hallucination…A hallucination that had felt far too solid and warm and alive to be anything but real. Precursors, this was real. And Jak had spent all this time convinced that Daxter was dead. Erol had been so sickeningly smug the day he had announced that he had captured Daxter. Jak had been skeptical at first, but Erol had known too much for it to be some kind of ploy to get under Jak's skin, had known things about Daxter that only Jak or someone close to him would have known.

But Erol had lied.

And Jak would find out how Erol had managed to find out so much about his friend and kill him for using it against him, but, for the time being, that wasn't important. Because Daxter _was_ alive, this _was_ real, and his childhood friend was standing within arm's reach eyeing him with a mixture of concern and elation and guilt.

"You alright there, buddy…? I'm uh…I'm sorry it took me so long…I – ack!"

He didn't give his friend any time for apologies; he didn't need any. He yanked the fiery-haired teen to him and crushed him in a hug, huffing when he realized that the so-called scrawny elf had gained a few inches on him. But he supposed it was difficult to grow much when constantly chained to a metal table and forced to live in a cramped cell with barely enough to eat. This was just proof that Daxter had been outside, had hopefully been safe and had been able to take care of himself. The pale teen let his Dark Eco aura run wild, let it crackle along Daxter's skin with a mind of its own. That he didn't hear screams of agony was the final confirmation that this really was his Daxter. Jak had almost _killed_ him. He had been ready to bury his claws in Daxter's face, and he wouldn't have stopped until there was nothing left but bone. The violence of Jak's thoughts didn't faze him, but the thought of how close he'd been to doing that to _Daxter_ made him tighten his grip until he swore he could hear bones creak.

"Yea, yea, good to see you to, tough guy! But could you stop tryin' to snap me in half?" Daxter staggered unsteadily when Jak suddenly dropped him and tried to rub feeling back into his arms, but he was grinning from ear to ear. "Now I'd love to stand around and shoot the breeze – really, I would – but we're sorta pressed for time, so I suggest we get the heck outta here. I, uh, brought you some new threads. Put 'em on."

Daxter reached down and picked up a backpack that Jak hadn't noticed before and handed it to him. It didn't take Jak any convincing for him to swap outfits. Hygiene or the prisoners' comfort hadn't been on the Baron's priority list, and the only time he had ever gotten something clean to wear was when the torture had finally reduced what he'd been wearing into irredeemable rags. Jak pulled the grimy, discolored shirt over his head and tossed it into the black abyss next to him without a second thought, not caring where it landed. He was halfway through pulling on the long-sleeved blue shirt Daxter had brought for him when he heard a pained hiss and spun around, claws bared and aura crackling, but Daxter was just standing there, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Hm? Oh, don't mind me! Pretend like I'm not even here…" Daxter drawled airily as he carelessly folded his arms over his stomach and quickly turned around. But Jak had seen the look in Daxter's eyes. He had seen the flash of pain, horror, rage, and guilt before the younger teen had looked away. Jak didn't have to ask to know what had upset his friend. His body was a tangled mess of jagged scars, burns, needle marks, incisions, and who knew what else. Some had been caused by cruel Guards, some by unfeeling scientists, and most by Erol's sadism. He wondered, as he changed into the rest of the outfit Daxter had brought, if he would still face Erol tonight.

Earlier the thought had filled him with glee. He had been waiting for ages to give the conceited, twisted elf exactly what he deserved. And he still longed to, and would if given the chance, but the game had changed. Jak wasn't alone anymore. He hadn't cared what would have happened to him after he had killed Erol and the Baron. Let the Guards swarm him and take him down – it wouldn't have mattered as long as he had taken those two with him and made them suffer before they went. But he couldn't be careless now. Jak had just been given his best friend back, had been handed a chance at freedom, and he wasn't going to waste it.

So he would postpone his revenge. For now, at least.

Other than the blue shirt, the younger teen had gotten him a pair of beige pants almost like his old ones, though these were slightly longer. A thick pair of brown boots replaced the tattered rag-like sandals issued to long term prisoners, and fingerless blue gloves now covered his hands. A wave of nostalgia crashed over Jak as he pulled a steel ring almost identical to the one he used to wear across his chest out of the backpack, as well as three leather belts to hold it up. The metal spaulder and vambrace tucked away in the bottom of the pack were so similar to his old ones that he might have believed they were, if he hadn't known that the Guards had taken all of his things. But buried in the very bottom of the bag, caught in a fold in such a way that Jak had almost missed them completely, were an eerily familiar pair of goggles.

"I know they ain't the old ones but…they're close, right?" At some point Daxter had turned back around and was watching him anxiously, waiting for his reaction. The goggles weren't his old ones, not the ones that Keira had made for him the same year she had made Daxter's, but they were similar. An abnormally large, bright red lens on the right side, and a smaller lens – almost too small to see through – on the left. He strapped them on over the red prison-issued cowl that kept his mane of hair in check and actually smiled when a piece of himself that had been missing clicked into place. It was a battered, rusty smile, but it was still there nonetheless.

"They're perfect," Jak answered, voice hoarse and raw from only being used for screaming and cursing. Daxter opened his mouth and closed it again a few times, as if he was dying to say or ask something but wasn't entirely sure how to do it, before swallowing and giving up. Instead, he placed his hands on his still nonexistent hips and gave the demonic teen a onceover before nodding sagely.

"Not bad. Not bad at all. Not as good-lookin' as me, of course, but some things just can't be helped."

This moment seemed so surreal. Perhaps it was starting to sink in that this wasn't some extremely vivid dream or hallucination, but that didn't make the situation any less incredible. Somehow Daxter had managed to find out exactly where Jak was being held, break into this prison – presumably by himself, sneak past all of the Guards on duty, and make it to the most secure sector of the building without being caught. He had always believed that his young friend was capable of a lot more than he gave himself credit for, but it seemed that even Jak had been guilty of underestimating the gangly elf – just a little bit. "Daxter, _how_-."

"I'll explain everything when our lives aren't in peril," Daxter interrupted as he glanced warily around the room, especially toward the deactivated warp gate in the corner. He steered them toward the other side of the room where a pile of supply crates rested rather conveniently under a rather large air vent. "Come on, Jak – we're outta here!"

The next few moments passed in a bit of a disbelieving haze. Opening the air vent was as simple as Jak wrapping his clawed fingers around and yanking as hard as he could. The grate clattered noisily to the floor as the two teens scrambled into the vent. Daxter, who seemed to somehow know where he was going, stayed in front. The glow from Jak's Dark Eco aura kept them out of the dark until they reached the end of the vent, where artificial light was leaking through another grate. This one was taken care of in the same rough manner and the two young elves climbed out of the vent to find himself in a storeroom of some sort with piles and piles of supply crates as high as the ceiling stacked in almost every available space. The two teens had almost managed to climb to another air vent near the ceiling when the inevitable happened and the alarms went off.

Daxter cursed and scrambled to pick up the pace, but Jak was grinning behind him. He wondered who had discovered he was gone. He could just imagine Erol swaggering into the room with some long-winded monologue planned, expecting to see Jak still lying there helpless. Jak would love to see how the elf's face twisted in shock, horror, and outrage when he realized Jak had broken free. The arrogant elf probably would feel more indignant than actually afraid or upset, miffed that his plaything for the past two years had run out on him. He wouldn't start to worry until it really hit him that Jak wasn't behind bars anymore. Nothing stood between Jak and Erol now but maybe a few yards and weak armor that Jak could rip through in seconds. Jak could take his revenge right now, it would only take maybe a few minutes and he would-.

"Hey, Earth to Jak! You comin' or what?" Jak snapped back to attention when a hand abruptly waved in his face. He snatched the pale appendage with a snarl and was about to crush it into an unrecognizable pulp when he realized who exactly it was attached to. Daxter watched him carefully with a raised eyebrow and a hint of fear – though if that fear was the result of their situation or caused by Jak, the older teen didn't know. "We need to get outta here! This place is gonna be crawlin' with KG any second!"

Jak nodded reluctantly and the two teens were off again, dashing closer and closer toward freedom. Freedom. The pale teen had to remember that. He couldn't let his thirst for blood and revenge get in the way of their escape. If the two of them got caught, Jak had no doubt that Erol would take out his anger out on Daxter. Every lie Erol had ever spun about how he had tortured and tormented the spirited elf would be made true, and the soldier would make Jak _watch_ and he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't put Daxter in that kind of danger. He couldn't go back, but he would save all his pent-up bloodlust for whatever lied ahead.

Jak literally itched to spill blood, and, for the first time in what might have been years, that fact actually worried him. He hadn't had to worry about holding himself back while he was imprisoned. He had never been able to do that much damage anyway with the Guards constantly watching his every move, ready to zap him if he so much as blinked the wrong way. He had just let his hatred boil without worrying about the consequences, because there hadn't been any. But twice now he had almost hurt Daxter and had only just barely stopped himself in time. The thought of Erol getting his hands on Daxter was horrifying enough, but what if Jak snapped out of a blood haze and it wasn't Erol lying dead at his feet or some nameless Krimzon Guard, but Daxter?

For the first time in months, Jak felt a spike of real fear.

* * *

I want to wish you all a Happy New Year! I shall see you all again on the 15th - or perhaps before!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Ugh, I'm a horrible person! I'm sorry this is late. It shall not happen again! I underestimated my intense urge to procrastinate but I shall not let this urge conquer me again! If you ever want chapter updates or want to find out if I croaked or something, I post story updates on ithimh . tumblr. Please feel free to harass me if this ever happens again (which it won't).

Anyway, I hope you all like the chapter. For some reason, I thought the whole prison thing would be done in one chapter but that obviously didn't happen. But now I can get back into Daxter's POV.

DISCLAIMER: Is in the first chapter. If Jak and Daxter were mine...well...I wouldn't be writing this fanfiction because this would have happened in the game.

* * *

**Jak and Daxter: The Darkness Within  
**by Jam

Despite the fact that the whole prison was apparently on high alert, the two teens didn't run into anyone else for quite some time. The halls Daxter led them through were eerily empty and silent save for the wail of the alarm and the sound of their footsteps. Rather than fill Jak with any sort of comfort, the fact only set the horned teen's nerves on edge. These halls should have been filled with the thundering of dozens of Krimzon Guards' boots and angry yells, and their absence was more ominous than comforting. His senses heightened, enhanced by Dark Eco, and these senses allowed him to pick up the echoes of a conversation down the hall and around the corner long before Daxter would have heard them. Jak quickly grabbed the back of Daxter's shirt, yanked him back, and pressed a clawed finger to his lips before the younger elf could accidentally give them away with one of his loud protests.

"Seen anything yet?" a muffled voice echoed down the hall - the voice of a Krimzon Guard wearing a full face mask, and he wasn't alone.

"Nah," another Guard replied, his voice a mixture between relieved and disappointed. "But can you believe that it actually got out?"

"I'm just surprised it took so long for that thing to bust loose," the first Guard spat in disgust. "I don't know what the Baron was thinking keeping that Dark Eco freak around. It's not like they got anything useful out of it, anyway. If you ask me, they should've put that monster down as soon as they found it."

"Yea, well, nobody _asked you_," Daxter hissed venomously under his breath, fidgeting in Jak's loose hold. "Come on, Jak. If we double back, maybe we can find a way to slip around 'em."

But Daxter's words were drowned out by the rushing of blood in Jak's ears. Maybe he couldn't take his revenge on Praxis right now, maybe he had had to let Erol go, but Jak had his limits. He had all of this _rage_ and _hate_ and _bloodlust_ whipping around inside of him like a hurricane, stirred up by the elation that came with freedom, and he needed to get it _out_. If he didn't…he didn't know what he'd do. He didn't want to _know_ what he'd do, because there was every chance that he could snap at the wrong place at the wrong time on the wrong person…

Jak stared his friend in the eye and tried to convey everything he was feeling, tried to express all of the terrible emotions that were eating him up inside without words. Because there were no words that could ever really express how Jak felt like he _needed_ to go around the corner and rip those Guards limb from limb and make them scream that would make this okay.

"Wait here." He didn't want Daxter to follow him. He didn't want him to see. And maybe it didn't make any sense - it wasn't as if Daxter hadn't seen him kill before - but somehow this was different.

Jak could feel Daxter's eyes on his back long after he'd turned the corner and faced the two Guards. The younger elf had remained strangely silent and Jak couldn't tell if that was a good sign or a bad one. He didn't give himself time to dwell on it. The Guards had quickly noticed him, and they had already raised their weapons and were ready to fire. They wouldn't go down without a fight, and the thought only exhilarated the pale-skinned elf. With a feral grin, Jak let himself descend into the madness stewing in the back of his mind and charged forward.

After that, the rest of their escape was nothing but a blur of red. The red haze of anger that nearly blinded him, the red of the Krimzon Guard's uniforms, and the red of warm elven blood. Jak had enough wits left about him to recognize that Daxter was not a threat and let the younger teen point him in the right direction, but other than that the tortured elf surrendered to the bloodlust that had simmered unchecked within him for the past two years. Jak couldn't have restrained himself even if he'd wanted to. Maybe later he would think back on his actions with shame and disgust, but for now every strangled scream of fear and pain he managed to rip from a Guard's throat was pure music to his ears.

Eventually, their running came to an end. The last air vent dumped them into some dank, flooded supply room that didn't look like it had been used in years. After all the fighting and yelling and sirens, this room seemed almost eerily silent. The dripping of water leaking from the ceiling echoed around them, strangely soothing. Jak leant up against a pile of crates and caught his breath, let his mind clear. He felt…_good_ – better than he had in ages. The pale teen felt lighter, less angry and saner now that he had gotten some of the pent up violence out of his system. There was a small part of him that shrank away in horror at what he'd done, that mourned for the loss of life, but it was nearly crushed under the weight of morbid satisfaction.

Nearly, until he glanced at Daxter. The younger boy stood a few feet away leaning on another pile of crates with one hand. The other hand was buried in his yellow-red hair. The teen wasn't looking at Jak and the older teen frowned at his friend's back, wondering what the other elf was thinking. What did Daxter think of Jak now? What had he been thinking while he'd listened to Jak cut through Krimzon Guards as if they'd been no more than pesky Lurker rats? How could he stand to be within 50 feet of him after what he'd done?

There was a time when Jak hadn't even had to look at his friend's expression to be able to tell how he was feeling. More often than not, Daxter's body language and the noises he made were more than enough. But time had passed, and both of them had changed. There was tension in the flame-haired elf that hadn't been there before, a harried edge to his posture that he couldn't quite manage to hide behind his familiar mask of humor. There was a time when Jak would have known exactly what to do to reassure his friend, to cheer him up and make him smile, but now he wasn't sure he trusted himself to try. The lighthearted boy from Sandover, with the lemon-lime hair and carefree smile, seemed like a fanciful dream from an eon ago.

Jak stared down at his hands, clothed in the gloves that Daxter had brought for him and now covered in the blood of elves just like him and Daxter. He had dreamed about this moment, about somehow breaking free and spilling the blood of every last Guard and scientist in this forsaken place, but Daxter had never been a fixture in any of these dark fantasies. Even if he hadn't thought the other teen dead, Daxter would have been out of place. Daxter was…

Daxter was smiling at him when he dared to look back up and, though the grin was a bit wobbly and tense, it seemed genuine. And yet, despite his smile, he couldn't hide the flash of fear in his eyes. Fear that Jak knew he had caused. Jak didn't understand how the other teen could stand there and look at him, covered in blood as he was, and still be able to _smile _like that – like nothing had changed between them, like _Jak_ hadn't changed – but he supposed there were just some things he would never understand about Daxter no matter how long he knew him.

"Got that outta your system?" Daxter asked with a raised eyebrow. "'Cause, uh, there's gonna be just a _tiny_ bit of a problem if you go apeshit over every KG you see outside. The streets are crawlin' with 'em. I mean, don't get me wrong – I hate 'em as much as the next guy…"

_Outside_…

"Anyway," Daxter rolled his shoulders as he came closer, a calculating look on his face that Jak wasn't sure really belonged there or not. But anything was better than fear. "Before we can go frolicking in your newfound freedom, we gotta make sure you won't send the whole city into a panic."

In the end, there wasn't all that much they could do about Jak's rather demonic appearance. The blood at least wasn't too much of a problem – according to Daxter, this was a very violent city and a guy walking around covered in blood honestly wouldn't prove all that shocking. His new goggles easily hid his unnatural black eyes, but his pale, almost grey complexion, horns and claws presented a problem. If anyone asked any funny questions, they could say that Jak's complexion was caused by some sort of illness, and maybe they could attribute the nails to eccentricity, but how did you explain two black bones growing out of someone's skull? And, for that matter, how did you explain away the crackling aura of Dark Eco that clung to Jak like a second skin?

For the horns, Daxter made due by retying Jak's cowl around his head sort of like a bandana. It didn't hide the horns completely, but it made them less obvious and Daxter was hoping that the cover of night would make them even less obvious until they could think of something better. As for the Dark Eco, if Jak didn't find some sort of way to suppress his aura, it would only be a matter of time before the Krimzon Guard were onto him. All they'd have to do was follow the trail of screaming, terrified citizens. He had been figuring out how to supress it by himself back at Sandover, but it had been two years since he'd tried it and he had been a different person back then. Even though he'd still had the anger and the bloodlust, there'd still been some measure of control. He had had the urge to kill but he hadn't _wanted_ to, not really. But now?

"This is just like that time at Gol and Maia's place," Daxter grinned suddenly, snapping his fingers. "When we had to piss you off to get your Dark Eco mojo flowin'. You just need to think of something…_calming_. _Relaxing_. Like, I dunno…naked babes on the beach!"

That startled an amused huff out of Jak – not much of a laugh but more than he'd done in longer than he could remember. No, that image wasn't particularly calming. The only 'babe' Jak had ever known had been Keira, and the green-haired mechanic was like a sister to him. Thinking of her only made him wonder how she was doing and if she was still alive. If Daxter had managed to get by in this horrible world for two years, than surely Keira and Samos had as well. Maybe the younger teen even knew where they were!

But these thoughts, though a weight off Jak's shoulders, still weren't _calming_. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been calm. Even back in Sandover he hadn't exactly been the most relaxing person to hang around, always looking for the next thrill or adventure. He had been restless then and Jak was even worse off now that he had this bloodthirsty itch under his skin. But if he didn't think of _something_, he would just be dragged back into this Precursors-forsaken prison. If Daxter was right and the streets were swarming with Guards, then it would only be a matter of time before they killed Jak or threw him back into prison to be Erol's plaything again. He'd take down as many Guards as he could, but he wouldn't be able to fight them forever and he would have to worry about protecting Daxter as well.

No, none of this was particularly calming…What had always calmed him down when he was younger?

Honestly, it didn't take long to figure out. The answer stood right next to him. Daxter somehow always managed to be the answer. Jak could remember warm nights after another hair-raising adventure or run through the jungle temple, after the adrenaline rush had long since worn off, spent lounging on the beach watching the odd green star inch across the night sky. He could remember the roar of waves crashing against the stone sentinels, the smell of grass and sea salt, the cry of gulls who hadn't settled down for the night, the creak of water wheels perpetually turning. He could remember Daxter babbling about everything and nothing, gossiping about the villagers and groaning about whatever Samos had made them do that day. Sometimes the younger teen would make up stories about the green star, what it was and how it had gotten there. It seemed like a lifetime ago since they'd last done that, but Jak could remember everything.

"You good?" Daxter smirked at him knowingly, and Jak realized with a start that his aura was…well, not _gone_, but no longer stretching out in a four foot radius. It had retracted and settled down somewhat, only setting off a whip of Dark Eco every so often instead of every second. Jak still thought he was completely conspicuous, but he didn't particularly want to wait any longer. Freedom was apparently only a few feet away, through an opening near the ceiling. He didn't know what it was used for, or why the Guard had left it wide open, but he didn't care. Jak couldn't see the sky from here, couldn't smell the night air, but he could imagine it. He could imagine what it would be like not having these thick metal walls surrounding him, hemming him in, crushing him until there was nothing left…That thought was enough for Jak to get enough of a hold of himself to squash down the rest of aura, until just the barest tendril of Eco lashed out scarcely noticeable in the dark. It wasn't as if the boiling tempest of emotions within him had suddenly evaporated – it still raged within him like wumpbees swarming under his skin – but, at least for now, he had a very fragile grip on it. Jak could hold himself back long enough for them to get somewhere safe…he hoped. He couldn't let this opportunity slip just because he couldn't manage his anger.

The pale elf climbed the stack of damp boxes next to the window and hauled himself onto the ledge. He barely spared a cursory glance down below for Guards before throwing himself out and down to the street. A thick layer of sand or dust softened his landing and shifted with every step he took away from the prison. There were a few other elves out on the street that night, and they glanced suspiciously at him from the corner of their eyes, but none of them wore the infamous red Krimzon Guard armor and they all gave Jak a wide berth. If they thought it strange or alarming that someone had apparently just escaped from the prison, they wisely kept this to themselves, kept their heads down, and walked just a little bit faster. Jak heard Daxter follow him a few seconds later, and then a boney fist punched him softly in the shoulder. Thankfully for Daxter, the older teen was either still calm enough not to accidentally rip his arm off, or he was just too stunned to pay that much attention. Jak couldn't call the night sky beautiful. Rather than the pure, dark cerulean that had painted the sky over Sandover, the sky above this city was a strange, muddy mix of dark bluish-green mixed with brown. Smoke billowing up from the city blocked out most of it, but Jak could see the green star in the distance, peering behind what could have been a cloud or a particularly thick bit of smoke. None of that mattered, though, when the reality was that he stood under open _sky_.

"We're _free_, Jak, thanks to _me_! Nice to breathe some fresh air, huh?" 'Fresh' was another relative term, but Jak wasn't going to complain about that either. He had nothing to complain about. If not for Daxter, Jak would most certainly have been dead by now. Instead he was standing here, in this ramshackle, dusty looking city next to his best friend, who was very much _alive _and real. This time when he turned to smile at Daxter, he grinned openly, fangs and all. Neither of them noticed the elderly elf standing down the street, watching them with narrowed eyes. He didn't fit in with any of the other elves milling about the streets almost as if they were in a haze. Rather than the drab browns and tans worn by the other elves, the old elf wore hooded, vibrant blue robes that appeared to be well taken care of. Silvery-white hair poured down his back and covered his gaunt cheeks. He seemed almost regal, standing proudly in the middle of the street clutching a staff not unlike a king might hold a scepter. He watched the two strangers walk down the street, the shorter of the two gazing about him with what could have been awe, though the old elf couldn't see what was so awe-inspiring about this dump of a city.

"Hello, strangers," the elf called, stepping forward to greet them. He frowned when the shorter one, a disturbingly pale young elf, walked right past him. Not one to be ignored, the elf reached out and placed an arm on the pale stranger's arm to try and stop him. "My name is Kor. May I help – ah!"

An inhuman snarl ripped from the stranger's throat as the elderly man's hand was suddenly caught. He thought that maybe this was what it would feel like to have his hand crushed between two gears, slowly squeezing until there was nothing left but dust and pulp. Little flashes of lightning flickered off of the stranger, the deep purple of Dark Eco, and behind the stranger's goggle Kor thought he might have glimpsed the black emptiness of the abyss…

"Alright, break it up, break it up!" a grating, nasally voice suddenly shouted as a slightly taller elf with the most vibrant hair Kor had seen in a long time stepped forward. The people of Haven City all had hair in dull shades of browns, blondes, reds, and black, but this teenager had hair like a fiery plume of yellow and red. Kor would have thought it dyed if he didn't know that almost no one could afford such a luxury. The teen attempted to push him and the pale stranger apart, but he really only succeeded in shoving Kor back a few paces. At least he had his hand back…though it would be a while before he could actually feel it again "Sorry about that…"

"No harm done…" Kor muttered, eyeing the two elves warily.

The pale stranger eyed him right back, his aggression only barely held in check by the hesitant hand placed on his shoulder by his loudmouthed friend. "You seem like a reasonably smart man. I want information. Where the hell am I?"

"Well, my angry young friend," Kor replied sarcastically as he brushed off his robes with no small amount of disdain. These elves needed to learn respect… "You are a _guest_ of his _majesty_, Baron Praxis, the ruler of _glorious_ Haven City."

Scorn and digust dripped off of every word. The old elf held no reservations about speaking his mind. He hated the Baron with a white-hot passion, perhaps more so than others, and it seemed that the young stranger shared this hatred. It practically rolled off of him in waves. "I was just a 'guest' in the good Baron's prison."

"Inside a cell or inside a city, walls surround his both. We are all his prisoners…" Kor trailed off as the thunder of several pairs of combat boots stomping more or less in time approached from behind, and he turned to see a pack of Krimzon Guards headed their way. That was never a good sign, especially with guns already drawn. Krimzon Guards typically patrolled the streets alone, and to see a group like this never heralded anything good. "Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time…I-Id move on, if I were you…"

Behind him, the violent stranger tensed like drawn bow, like a Peacemaker ready to be fired, as the Guards drew closer. "By order of his eminence, the Grand Protector of Haven City, Baron Praxis, everyone in this sector is hereby under arrest for suspicion of harboring underground fugitives," the Guard in front barked once he was within earshot of the uneasy crowd that had started to form at their arrival. "Surrender and die!"

"Aaah, excuse me, sir," the fiery-haired elf actually took a step toward the Guards, seemingly unafraid of the armed and deadly elves. Either he somehow remained unaware of the infamous brutality of the Krimzon Guard, or he was a complete idiot. "But don't you mean surrender OR DIE?!"

"Not in this city…" Kor protested, backing away from the Guards as quickly as he could hobbling on his walking stick. Even the loudmouthed teenager shuffled away warily, but the pale stranger took an aggressive step forward. More tongues of Dark Eco lashed out around him like a cloak of lethal tentacles. The boy's fingers - were those _claws_?- twitched at his sides, as if he were actually eager for a fight. This could prove interesting... "Protect us from these Guards, and I'll introduce you to someone who can help you!"

The Guards chose that moment to attack, charging forward with their guns raised. The resulting fight…no. Calling it a fight implied that the Guards had some small chance of winning. In reality, it was nothing more than a bloodbath, but Kor still found it enjoyable to watch. The elderly elf could appreciate power and strength, valued it greatly in fact, and it pained him that his frail and failing body limited him so much. He'd make do, though, by watching this pale youth dart in and out of the mob of Krimzon Guards with the speed and grace of a seasoned warrior, a natural killer. Fully grown men in the finest armor dropped like weak, pathetic flies before him.

Honestly, it was beautiful. Kor chuckled under his breath as the citizens of Haven City began to scream and run, terrified of the creature of Dark Eco tearing their so-called 'protectors' to shreds. They should have been cheering him on! Finally, someone who could stand up to the Krimzon menace that tormented them each and every day, and they reacted with fear. Only the other teenager remained, looking on with the slack-jawed, horrified expression of someone who was witnessing a train wreck and unable to look away. When the massacre finally ended, the pale teen stood in the middle of a pile of carcasses, panting heavily and scowling despite his victory. When Kor glanced again at the other teen, his horrified expression had been wiped away almost as if it had never been there at all.

"Very impressive…" Kor complimented the violent, pale-skinned elf. He could compliment true artistry when he saw it. "What you just did was very brave. This child is important."

He gestured to the young boy who had been hiding behind his robes the entire time, shy by nature and frightened by all of the bloodshed. He, too, was an anomaly among the peoples of Haven City. His hair was a vibrant green the likes of which simply did not exist, and he had somehow managed to cling to the innocence of childhood when all other children his age had already long since become jaded by the world. The fiery-haired teenager frowned at the child and crouched down to get a better look at him. He peered at him longer than Kor really liked, a strange spark of something almost like nostalgia flashing through his eyes before he snorted and stood back up. "This kid? He looks kinda scruffy."

The three elves paused as a Hellcat Cruiser flew past the alleyway, and they all breathed collective sighs of relief when the Krimzon Guard behind the wheel didn't notice the pile of his fallen comrades. That luck wouldn't last for long, however.

"Thank you for your help, but I must get this boy to safety," Kor took the young child by the hand and began to hobble out of the alleyway, but that grating voice, like nails on a chalkboard, stopped him.

"Hey! What about _us_?"

"There is an underground group waging war against Baron Praxis," he threw over his shoulder. "Its leader, the Shadow, could use fighters like you. Find a dead-end alley near the city wall. Ask for Torn. He can help you…"

Kor pondered on his meeting with the two elves as he walked away and disappeared into the night. The pale elf hadn't been at all what he'd expected, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It simply meant that the next few months would prove far more entertaining than he had been hoping. It was almost a shame that the Dark Eco child would have to die.

Jak kept his eyes on the elderly elf's back until he had disappeared around the corner, and even then his nerves still wouldn't settle down. One thing Jak had always been able to trust was his gut feeling about things, and every instinct he had told him that Kor was trouble. Jak would have to keep an eye on him if they ever ran into each other again. He was pulled from his thoughts when Daxter suddenly let out an unnecessarily loud yawn as he shut his eyes stretched his arms over his head.

"Man! I dunno about you, but I've had enough excitement for one day! We can fight the Man all you want, tomorrow. I got a place where we can crash. It's not much, but it's got all the comforts of home."

_Home…?_

"Daxter…?"

"Hmmm?" Daxter paused mid-stretch to lazily glance at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Thanks." Jak didn't think he would ever be able to say that enough, let alone repay Daxter for what he'd done for him.

Daxter let his arms swing to his sides and grinned again, and, unlike all the others, this one was free of any trace of fear or anxiety or forced humor. This one was 100% Daxter. "No problem, tough guy. But you owe me, big time! I'm talkin' life debts and firstborns, here. And, um…do something about that lightning stuff, wouldja? Your homicidal is showing."

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I will see you soon! Thank you for all of the lovely reviews!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I was late once and now I've gone and cursed myself. I was working on this, I swear, but these past two weeks have been so bloody busy...The hecticness will finally, finally be over today, though, so I should have more time to write so I can get back to being on time...But enough apologizing. You all want the chapter!

DISCLAIMER: Is in the first chapter. If Jak and Daxter were mine...well...I wouldn't be writing this fanfiction because this would have happened in the game.

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**Jak and Daxter: The Darkness Within  
**by Jam

Time was one of those funny things that liked to make up its own rules. Not funny like 'haha,' but more funny like…a pain in the ass. Ten minutes spent waiting in line might take just as long as ten minutes catching up with a good friend, but they didn't _feel_ the same. An hour spent behind a desk filling out paperwork felt a long longer than an hour spent watching a Zoomer race from the front row. An afternoon lounging on the beach was a breeze in comparison to an afternoon spent stuck in traffic. Two years could be a blink of an eye for some, could drag on forever for others. For Daxter, two years felt like an eternity in hell.

Assuming there was a hell, of course, because no one was 100% sure. But if there was a hell, Daxter was pretty sure that it would pale in comparison to life in Haven City. The place was a dump, hands down, and the Sandover native couldn't understand how the locals could stand it. Despite the fact that there was open sky above him, he still felt claustrophobic with all those blocky buildings looming over him and the ever present smog cloud constantly blotting out the sun. The water was foul, the air was foul, the food…well, the food was actually pretty good, but there never was enough to go around. And being surrounded by so many unfamiliar faces made him twitchy. It didn't help that the elves around here weren't exactly the friendliest bunch. Every one of them had a hard, cutthroat glint in their eyes, and those Krimzon Guards were the worst.

But Daxter could have dealt with all of this easily, if it weren't for one tiny, little, almost insignificant thing.

He had lost Jak.

Those first few minutes after he had been spat out of the Rift Gate were a bit of a blur. Daxter had landed in a pile of crates, which hadn't really broken his fall much at all, but at least he had landed in an alley and not out in the open where people would have gawked at him. Head pounding, world spinning, the teen had shakily gotten to his feet and looked around blearily, trying to figure out why he saw two of everything. He remembered shaking his head to try to clear it and turning to inform Jak about how much he _hated_ the Precursors and all of their stupid, _useless_ inventions…but Jak hadn't been there. The pale, pointy, glowing, easy-to-spot teenager hadn't been anywhere in the alleyway. He hadn't been out in the street, either, or around the corner, or down the block, or anywhere else Daxter had looked.

There had been plenty of other elves around, sure, but none of them were familiar. They eyed him suspiciously and backed away from him warily the more frantic he became. He didn't dare ask them for help looking for Jak. Daxter could just tell that these folks were real jumpy, and asking them if they'd seen a homicidal, demonic-looking, Eco-soaked elf with an anger management problem would have just been asking for trouble. But questions about Keira had gotten nothing but blank, unfriendly stares, and apparently the idea of a green-skinned floating Eco Sage was completely ludicrous. By the time the sun had set, Daxter had still not seen hide nor hair of Keira, Samos, or Jak, and he had had to face the fact that he might be completely and utterly alone.

Those first few weeks had been hard. Daxter had never been_ alone_ before, not really. He had always been able to rely on Jak for anything, and on Keira and Samos as well if he needed to, and even on the other villagers. But suddenly now all Daxter had to rely on was himself. It didn't take him long to learn that the citizens of Haven City would rather watch him starve to death in a ditch and search his pockets than offer him the tiniest bread crumb, let alone a place to sleep for the night. With no money to his name and nothing worth selling, the citizens of Haven City had quickly deemed him not worth their time. At first Daxter had resented them for it, but now he could see where they came from. They barely had enough to support themselves and their battered families - why should they spare anything for a stranger like him?

So Daxter had had to hone a few unsavory skills in order to get by. Nothing was better than the five finger discount, right? It turned out Daxter was pretty good at sneaking around unseen when he had an empty, angry stomach to motivate him, and if someone wanted to buy some of the junk he'd stolen, all the better for him! And while he stole and sold and curled up in dark, dusty corners for the night, he kept an eye open and an ear cocked for word about Jak and the others. Not a second went by that Daxter didn't think about them. How was the old log coping in a place where green life didn't seem to exist? What did Keira think about about all of the strange technology these elves used every day? Was Jak alright, and did he did he feel as hopelessly lost without Daxter as Daxter felt without him?

Weeks passed. Obnoxiously hot, dry, bitter weeks spent carving out a niche for himself in Haven City, of avoiding the scrutiny of the infamous Krimzon Guards and uselessly searching for his friends when he could. He just hoped they were lost somewhere in the sectors of the city he didn't have access to, and not in some other world entirely. Daxter didn't know what he'd do then.

But then one day he had heard a rumor. A couple of elves passing through from the Red District hadn't been quite as discrete about their gossiping as they should have been. Daxter had heard them whispering about the pale, feral elf the guards had captured a few months back, but he hadn't been the only one. It wasn't ling before the KG were escorting them off the streets, never to be heard from again. As bad as he felt for them, Daxter had just been ecstatic to hear any sort of news about Jak. After weeks of running around lost, alone, and beginning to lose hope, he finally knew where Jak was. Sure, he had found out that his best buddy had apparently been locked up, but all Daxter had to do was find some way to bust him out of there. It couldn't be _that_ hard, right?

…right?

It had been the hardest thing Daxter had ever done. He had devoted every single waking moment to finding out where exactly Jak was being held and devising a way to sneak in undetected, break him loose, and get the heck out of dodge. After months of planning, pouring over ill-gotten blueprints and floor plans, and bargaining with whatever benevolent supernatural beings might be listening, Daxter had finally felt as ready as he could be, considering he planned to break into a prison so fortified that even Gol and Maia would have turned tail and run. He'd thought he'd prepared for just about everything. He had learned the guard rotations and knew them by heart, he had brought as many supplies as he could comfortably carry, he had even brought Jak a change of clothes. There was just one thing that Daxter hadn't really prepared for – Jak himself.

Daxter hadn't known what he would find locked away in the Baron's prison. He hadn't even known if Jak would still be _alive_. After two years of living in Haven City, Daxter had heard plenty about the horrors that went on in that prison – people went in, but they never, ever came back out. But he _had_ to believe that Jak was still alive. Daxter couldn't let his pessimism and fear get the best of him, because Jak had been one of the few things that had kept him going all this time. When the nights had gotten unbearably lonely, when food had gotten scarce, when the stares of passersby had grown particularly malevolent, he had asked himself, 'What would Jak do?' He never usually _did_ what he'd imagined Jak would do (something as simple as a broken leg would be a death sentence in a place like this), but just thinking about his friend was usually enough to get him out of whatever funk was afflicting him at the time. Daxter felt no shame in admitting that Jak was his better half because it was the absolute truth, and without him the world felt…like a giant gaping maw that was trying to swallow him whole. But things would get better once he found Jak – that was one of the laws of nature. Birds flew, fish swam, and Jak made things better. Daxter would find Jak, and then maybe he could finally _breathe_ for a while…and then they would find Samos and Keira and go _home_. For two years, Daxter had managed to scrape by comforting himself with the fact that, after all this was over, they could all finally go back home.

But the Jak Daxter had found strapped down to what had looked like some sort of doomsday device had not been the same boy Daxter had left behind in Sandover. Jak had grown, for one. His silver hair had finally grown long enough that it could no longer defy the laws of gravity, and, unlike Daxter, puberty had decided to grace him with facial hair – an actual, full-fledged _goatee_ of all things. But even with these small changes, even dressed in that ratty prison uniform, Jak hadn't looked very different. If he had been sprawled on their bed in his uncle's house and not flopped on this metal slab, he might have looked like he was peacefully asleep and not in some sort of torture-induced coma. But there had been signs that not everything was quite right, even before Jak had opened his mouth. He had been thinner, much thinner, and there had been deep bags under his eyes. The parts of him that Daxter could see had been mottled with bruises of all shapes and sizes, and he didn't want to think about how his friend had gotten them. He wouldn't be able to get through this half-assed escape plot if he was freaking out.

The longer Jak had laid their unresponsive, though, the harder it had been for Daxter not to freak out. No matter what the younger teen said or how he pleaded, Jak would just not move. Not one twitch, not one spark of Dark Eco, and Daxter was too panicked to check to see if he was even _breathing_. He didn't _want_ to check, because there was always that small possibility that _maybe he wasn't breathing_.

But then the moment Daxter had been waiting for had arrived, and Jak had opened those big, disturbingly black eyes of his and (presumably) looked at him (because it was hard to tell sometimes when the guy didn't have pupils and irises and such) and…he had spoken.

Several hours later, walking down the streets of Haven City with Jak following not half a step behind, Daxter still reeled from that little surprise. Jak _spoke_. Not a laugh, not a chuckle, not a grunt or a growl or a roar, but actual _words_ in an actual _sentence_. Jak's silence had been something that had bugged Daxter for as long as he could remember. He could never understand why Jak had never spoken even though Samos had said that everything was working fine. As the years had gone by, Daxter had stopped trying to not so subtly convince his friend to talk and had grown used to the silence, filling it up instead with his own inane chatter, but he had always wondered what Jak would have sounded like. He would spend lazy afternoons running different voices through his head trying to find one that would fit his friend and never getting anywhere. He would wonder what the first thing Jak would ever say would be. He would wonder what his name would sound like when Jak said it…

But the first words Daxter had ever heard out of Jak's mouth had been a proclamation of death, so full of rage and turmoil and hatred that it had almost sounded inhuman. Daxter had leapt back in shock and almost went toppling over the edge of the doomsday device's platform, but he hadn't had any time to process Jak's broken silence. The Dark Eco aura that had been conspicuously absent suddenly surged to life with a violence Daxter had never seen before, lashing out at the machine and shattering the metal shackles that had tied Jak down. With a drunken grin that had looked disturbingly out of place on his friend's face, the pale elf had slid off of the table and stumbled toward him, his claws stretched threateningly at his sides and an unhinged spark in the black abyss of his eyes that Daxter had never seen even in Jak's most bloodthirsty moments. It was that glint that had paralyzed Daxter with fear, had made his heart lodge itself halfway up his throat and made him tremble so badly he could hardly stand up straight. Purple lightning flailed around the older elf like a hurricane, and though the snap of it against Daxter's skin wasn't exactly painful, it wasn't pleasant either. He had quickly shuffled away when Jak started to prowl closer, unsure if Jak could even recognize him.

Even then, Daxter hadn't expected Jak to _attack_ him. But the next thing he knew, he was pinned to the floor with multi-inch black talons of _death_ getting dangerously close to his left eye. He couldn't even remember what he'd been thinking right then. What did you think about when the best friend you had been searching for for so long was about to kill you like you meant absolutely nothing to him?

"Where are we headed, Dax?" Daxter snapped out of his musings and smirked over his shoulder at the elf stalking behind him. 'Stalking' because, even though Jak's gait was familiar, it now had the dark overtone of a predator ready, willing, and downright _eager _to kill - and wasn't that just all sports of terrifying... But Daxter wouldn't let on that he was so petrified he could barely walk straight. He had been positive once that Jak would never hurt him, no matter how far off the deep end he went, and nothing had changed. So what if he had carved through dozens of elven guards with his bare hands and grinned maniacally as he had broken their bones and listened to them scream in agony? Jak had the right to want a little revenge; Daxter could respect this. From a distance. Preferably far away enough that Jak wouldn't hear him if he started to gag...

Two years ago, Jak would have been a mess after a massacre like that. He would have been wracked with guilt and horror, but the older teen had hardly batted an eyelash at the blood on his hands. Daxter had to wonder…what had happened to Jak to prison that had changed him so much?

"The the most scenic bit of real estate in the whole city," Daxter lied through his teeth. From Jak's derisive snort, he could tell his friend had caught on to the sarcasm. "We're just a stone's throw away from a prime bit of beach."

That last part not may or may not have been true. It was true that Daxter's neighborhood practically hugged the beach, but he had never actually seen what it looked like over the giant metal wall that protected the city. He did wish he didn't live so far away, though. The sooner they got Jak inside and away from the scrutinizing glares of pedestrians, the sooner Daxter could breathe. He was half-tempted to just 'borrow' a Zoomer, but hotwiring someone's vehicle right now would draw too much attention. Instead he walked as quickly as he could without looking too suspicious and kept his mouth shut only to try and remain as inconspicuous as possible. The elves around here weren't above ratting out their neighbors if they thought it would get the Krimzon Guards off their backs for a while.

The neighborhood where Daxter lived was, in the young teen's opinion, probably the worst in the city. Tucked away in a corner of the slums was a flooded neighborhood made completely out of wooden and metal scrap. The 'roads' here were rickety wooden peers and docks repaired only when the holes in them had gotten too big for people to easily jump over. The water that lapped at the scrawny legs of the elevated buildings was brackish and a shade of brown that Daxter didn't want to contemplate. Despite this, he had actually grown fond of the neighborhood and a few of the people in it. An old couple had lived here not long ago. Sometimes he'd slept under the metal awning above their door when it rained, and sometimes he would wake up with stale bread in his lap. Sometimes, when he could, Daxter would leave money under their tattered front mat.

He hadn't even known their names, but they'd helped him out when they didn't have to and it had hit him hard when they'd both mysteriously disappeared one day. Daxter didn't know why the Krimzon Guard had taken them away - maybe they hadn't paid their taxes - but from then on he had lost all respect for the KG, if he had had any left to begin with. He had felt bad about moving into their empty house, but at least this way their belongings would be relatively safe instead of left at the mercy of insensitive vultures. He was just…house-sitting until they came back.

The house was in the very, back tucked away next to the Wall. It was really nothing more than a glorified shack, just like all of the other houses. It took a while to open all seven locks on the door, but soon the two teens were ducking through the doorway and shutting Haven City behind them. While Daxter went to go light the single lantern on the solitary table with the weird, stumpy leg, Jak pushed up his goggles and glared at every nook and cranny as if he expected the dust to attack him. Away from the prying eyes of easily startled citizens, he loosened the leash on his Eco aura and let it snap and crackle around him, giving the single room an odd, purple glow. For once in his life, Daxter didn't know what to say. If he was completely honest with himself, he hadn't thought he'd be able to break Jak out at all. And yet here they were, against all odds, staring at each other from opposite sides of the room.

"This doesn't feel real, does it?" Jak asked with a huff-like laugh, breaking the silence. Yep, Daxter would have never have been able to imagine a voice like _that. _Deep and smooth and slightly rough. It suited this older, harder version of Jak.

"I'm a dream come true, right?" Daxter teased, some of the tension easing out of him as he slipped back into the familiarity of banter. It was different now knowing that Jak might actually talk back, not just shoot him an exasperated look or smack him over the back of the head. But even though Jak didn't speak immediately, he didn't do either if those things. Instead, he just stared at Daxter for a moment, expression softening as he finally stepped away from the door. He sat down on the cot tucked against the farthest wall, stared down at it for a moment like he had forgotten what comfort felt like (which, to be honest, he probably had, and Daxter would gladly take it upon himself to fix that), and then looked back at Daxter.

"How have you been, Daxter?" he asked softly.

How _was_ he? Daxter supposed he was alright. He had managed to survive for two years in this cesspool of a city on his own, had come through relatively unscathed, and had finally found Jak. All things considered, he was doing pretty well. Great, even! But still… "You know, I never thought I'd say this, but I sort of miss the villagers. I even miss that grump old log, though I _definitely_ don't miss his staff!"

"So it's just us?"

"Yea, but not that the dynamic duo is back together, finding the others should be a snap!" and Daxter believed that whole heartedly. Even if Jak was a little bit different, a little darker and certainly angrier, he was still Jak, and his mere presence was enough to make Daxter feel better. He hadn't exactly been the most optimistic person these past two years, but he actually felt as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders that had been there so long he had started to forget it was there. Feeling lighter than he'd felt in ages, he didn't think before grabbing a fruit from the crate by the table and tossing it to Jak. "Hungry?"

He probably should have thought a bit more about throwing random objects at Jak, though. The pale elf reacted on instinct, burying his claws into the oncoming projectile as if he thought the fruit would attack him. Dark Eco crackled menacingly for a moment before settling down, and Jak thankfully seemed more exasperated at his own actions rather than angry. But he tore into the fruit, nonetheless, eyes closing in an expression of bliss that was much better than the look of blinding rage that had been there not half a second before, if slightly distracting. Crisis averted. "I wouldn't worry too much about them, though. This city's a big place, and I don't have access to even half of it. They're out there somewhere. Maybe this 'underground movement' can help us find 'em!"

Jak's expression suddenly turned dark and cold as he glared down at the fruit in his hands. It didn't take rocket science to figure out who else Jak wanted to find. He obviously had a score to settle with Baron Praxis. Daxter didn't know how he felt about embarking on a crusade of revenge against the most powerful elf in Haven City, but if Jak was dead-set on doing it then Daxter was with him all the way. Daxter hadn't been there for Jak when he had needed him the most. He didn't know what he would have done if he had been captured, too; he didn't know if his presence would have helped at all or if it was better that he had been out here to break Jak free from the outside. But every time he glanced at Jak and saw the furrows in his brow that had never been there before, every time Jak killed and satisfied not an uncontrollable bloodlust but a gaping sea of hatred blacker than his eyes, Daxter became drenched in a cold wave of guilt. Because maybe Jak wouldn't be this way if he had managed to rescue him just a little bit faster. He'd keep that guilt hidden until the day he died, because Jak didn't need to deal with that.

"Don't worry. We'll get that Baron Praxis guy, alright," Daxter promised. And it helped that Daxter had a few bones to pick with Praxis as well. Every scar on Jak's back, every bruise, every burn was etched into Daxter's mind. He didn't know if the Baron had made any of those marks himself, but he knew that they wouldn't have been there if the Baron hadn't wanted it. Daxter couldn't imagine the pain Jak must have gone through acquiring every single one of those marks. He knew hunger, loneliness, and fear, but Daxter had never really known pain. Pain was only a fleeting sensation when Samos could heal just about anything with a wave of his hand, and he had done all he could to avoid getting hurt in this strange, unfriendly world.

But Jak's scars...they spoke of constant and unending agony, of needless and sadistic torture. Someone was going to have to answer for whatever had happened to Jak in that hell of a prison. No one was allowed to hurt his Jak and get away with it.

_No one_.

"Okay," Daxter somehow managed to say through a jaw-popping yawn. He hadn't been kidding when he'd said he'd had enough excitement for one day. He'd literally been a bundle of nerves and anxiety waiting for this day, and every second slinking through the prison had been like an eternity in hell. Crouching behind crates, waiting for Krimzon Guards to pass him by and praying they couldn't hear him breathe, crawling through what felt like miles upon miles of air vents paranoid that they would give in under his weight. Daxter was beat. "You take the bed tonight. I'll take the floor."

He didn't find anything odd about this suggestion. In fact, he thought it made perfect sense. Jak had seemed pretty okay with hugging Daxter (trying to snap in half with affection, was more like it), but the guy had been _tortured_ for two years. He probably didn't want to be touching people any more than he absolutely had to. But the look Jak shot him was strangely confused, and Daxter realized with a start that, maybe, Jak didn't want to be alone. At least Daxter had had at least a few half decent social interactions over the past two years, but he doubted Jak had had any. Maybe it wasn't so strange to think that his friend wanted one thing to go back to normal. Maybe, for now, they couldn't go home. They hadn't found Samos or Keira – they didn't even know where to start looking. But they had each other, and that definitely counted for something. And if Jak would feel better by squishing together in the only available comfortable sleeping space, then Daxter wouldn't complain. Much. "_Fine_. We can share. But I hate to tell ya this, buddy – you absolutely _reek._ We're gonna have to take care of that, ASAP."

"You don't exactly smell like roses, yourself, Dax."

Dax…he thought he could get used to that…

* * *

So, uh...I will pray profusely to the Writing Gods and hopefully I will have another update on the 15th, on time, when I'm supposed to. I want to thank you all for the reviews. They honestly mean a lot to me and I love to know what you think.


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